


Winter's Womb

by Good_Morning_And_Good_Night



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Gen, Jack's an omega, Omegaverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2018-07-11 19:02:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7066264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Good_Morning_And_Good_Night/pseuds/Good_Morning_And_Good_Night
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the Spirit World collectively ignoring Jack Frost the so-called barren Omega, he has no idea that A/B/O Dynamics even exist, especially since they are entirely unique to the supernatural community.<br/>How does this change the movie when the rest of the Guardians and Pitch are Alphas and Betas?</p>
<p>The prompt comes from https://rotg-kink.dreamwidth.org/3036.html?thread=6196700</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bunnymund

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or realities (unless otherwise stated). I do not make money off of this.
> 
> This is not betaed. If you see any mistakes, I would love for you to kindly point them out.

Even being close to the winter brat was enough to set my instincts warring against one another, one side yelling ‘OMEGA! OMEGA!’ and other side rationalizing how the so-called ‘Omega’ had a barren womb, a false womb, that he was a falb. And did I not remember how wonderfully the winter brat messed up Easter in ‘68? Yeah. Way out of the ballpark of Omega behavior. If I didn’t know better, that would be Alpha dynamic, not Omega.

Luckily, it wasn’t me that was supposed to drag the troublemaker to North’s. That was the job of the yeti, the big hulking white furred things that picked up the shouting kid and took him into the portal, away from my screeching instincts while I raced along earthen flooring, my feet signalling my temporary return to the earth.

The kid was a menace originally, but how in the world was  _ he _ meant to help us protect the children of the world? He was selfish, annoying, all the things that wouldn’t be good on a spirit but are even worse on an omega. Yeah that beared repeating. Luckily I got to North’s workshop just as Jack was getting out of the sack. He looked wonder-struck, scared, intrigued and intimidated all at once. I ignored the traitorous pure-Alpha-instinct thought of  _ what would he look like if I showed him my nest _ . 

“Wow, you gotta be kidding me.”

My fur bristled at his immediate sarcasm. He was roughly picked up by the yeti and even then his sarcasm wouldn’t stop.

“Oh, yeah. I love being shoved in a sack and tossed through a magic portal.”

The bigger part of the conversation I left myself on the sideline, online jumping in when a question came up. I came back to pay attention a bit later in the conversation. And there was immediately something to talk about. 

“Look, this is all very flattering, but ah… you don’t want me. You’re all hard work and deadlines, and I’m snowballs and fun times. I’m not a Guardian.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I said!”

And then Tooth (a more omega-inclined beta, softer more motherly, but still a beta) cut in, trying to bring him to our side, trying to get an omega that can’t even make sure kids don’t die in a goddamn blizzard join in a war against evil, where the main bad guy gains more power from fear, fear of anything, the unknown, the known, the boogeyman.

I provide a bit of unheard snark at the end of her speech about the lights, and then there’s the talk about how infrequently the Man in the Moon converses with anyone at all. And then his real snark starts up.

“After 300 years this is his answer? To spend eternity like you guys cooped up in some, some hideout thinking of, of new ways to bribe kids? No no, that's not for me. No offense.” He spoke with bravado, his arms open and waving as if he were an alpha and not a barren omega.

“How is that not offensive?!” I turn to the rest of them.

“You know what I think? I think we just dodged a bullet. I mean, what's this falb know about bringing joy to children anyway?” I expected Jack to be offended, to blow up, create a blizzard, hopefully near the building so that the rest of the Guardians can finally believe that Jack Frost was a bad idea to have on the team. But he didn’t. Even Tooth and the others recognized the world, sparing me a glare before focusing their attentions on Jack, who scrunched up his nose at the word, looking all confused before sniping back.

“Uhh, you ever hear of a snow day? I know it's no hard-boiled egg, but kids like what I do.”

“But none of ‘em believe in you. Do they? You see, you’re invisible, mate. It’s like you don’t even exist.”

This was the stinger. This was what could finally crack through the dull omega and his rancid brain.

Invisibility happened to everyone at some point.


	2. Toothiana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Got it out a bit earlier than I expected!

“They’re stealing the teeth!”

Toothiana found it sort of strange to see an Omega be so assertive of himself, so sure of exactly what to do and where, especially in a new environment to them. How quickly he formed short, temporary bonds to the baby fairies, in hopes of getting the boost to be able to save them, but every time he seemed to fall a bit short. She supposed it was because of said new environment that that was happening, though his actions seemed strangely ignorant of….

But that couldn’t have happened! Somebody must have told him. And that meant he wasn’t so amazing at controlling his powers. But he had potential, she could see it out of the corner of her eyes as she tried to save her life’s work from crumbling before her, red and green and blue and purple and all the colors children saw as fairy-like and dainty and (unfortunately) extremely girly. Probably. It might have been a bit lost in translation with the fairies she was trying to save from Pitch’s clutches gosh darn it, but she supposed that was probably it when looking over the numbers for the teeth, girls and boys.

She, herself, was a Beta. Often mocked for being punishingly  _ boring  _ in her long gone spiritual childhood, she understood the pros and cons of being who she was. An omega was expected to be prim and proper, always at home and always with some kind of comfort, be it food or a clean home. She was terrible at those kinds of things. Omegas were also (slightly contradictoraly - shush it’s a word) considered lazy and the one that does nothing for days on end. Toothiana could literally not stay still, especially now that she had a job of her own to keep children happy and people expected her to work above and beyond, seemingly to get out of the pit that makes Betas  _ boring _ . 

For the record, she was not boring. Sandy, at the very least, could agree - especially since he was vehemently against those kinds of stereotypes on spirits. That was probably because he wasn’t any of the three. He was too powerful (Brute Force) to be an Alpha, too cunning (because apparently that’s the original trait for Omegas, she can’t see it) to be a, well, an omega, and his magic demanded so much attention, he simply could never be a Beta. He was who all and none strived to become.

Back on track, what was she talking about? Oh, right, Jack.

And the captured fairies. Oh no. Were all of them gone?

“Oh thank goodness! One of you is alright!”

And then Pitch sauntered in, like he was trying too hard to be an Alpha, his appearance subtly changed (again) from his magic, that kept getting consistently darker and more terribly against the nature of things, forcing his Beta body to conform to Alpha tendencies, like height and strength and sheer power. 

“Hang on, is that… Jack Frost?” his laugh is half Beta half Alpha, like he didn’t have enough time to perfect it but thought it sounded cool enough to keep. “Since when are you all so chummy?”

“We’re not.”

He laughs like he knows something but doesn’t want to tell, like an Alpha and then like an Alpha began to taunt in a darker form than North (a true Alpha) stand with his shoulders as square as robots (no kindness) words piercing like a spear or perhaps an arrow that shot her metaphorical breath out of her lungs until she regained her footing and her rage boiled over until her only thought was to.

PUnCh HIM!

And he danced away like a Beta and Tooth would have smirked if she wasn’t so angry and a Beta herself, so utterly  _ boring _ and a  _ coward _ but capable of so much once the judging eyes turned away and focused on newer things. And then he switched to Alpha again, making her head spin like a top she used to play with when she was naive and not a spirit, exhibiting his strength with an evil smile, and Tooth watched in horror as the dark sand so similar to Sandy’s and yet so very different (weaker, but she wasn’t thinking about that, it was stronger than her so she should be concentrating on  _ running, running, running _ but for some reason she wasn’t), the black sand rippled across the surface of his skin like he was an illusion and. 

What more is there to say?

The belief children had in her was withering away, its time as limited as the amount of sand shown to the Guardians if it was placed in an hourglass and left to disappear.


	3. Jack Frost

Jack never understood any of the fuss that surrounded him, or rather, didn’t until he came across the guardians and was exposed to the fuss that surrounded him since he woke up from his lake (maybe heard a gasp? That was probably his scared mind making things up). He remembered a sister, but he didn’t know where that was coming from, and he remembered being happy, watching her. It seemed both important and something you don’t tell people unless you knew more. He had vague memories, but often times she wouldn’t be in there other than a thought.

Similar to a fact. Just a fact in the forefront of his mind.

Like the fact that he would protect her with his life, even though he didn’t know where she was. Or how this one girl (lady, really) in the town near the lake was important to him, even though he didn’t know why.

Or why at one point in the middle of winter he felt strange burning white-hot sensations (like the fire spirits he… saw once) through his freezing skin, shaking him to the core even if he tried going to colder places until he seemingly exploded into a blizzard and knew no more until he saw a giant kangaroo bound up to him. He thought he was saved at that point, but he was wrong, he was there to scold him for something he didn’t even understand.

He was scared, he was afraid, and his mind went back to a memory he didn’t have, trying to conjure up the image of a large male human (this seemed important for some reason) being angry, yelling at him for something he hadn’t done (how did he know this? Was this his father? Where did that thought come from?).

He couldn’t even remember half of what the kangaroo had said, just that he was yelling and there were mean words, the kind that leave a bad taste in your mouth. He felt like he was slowly dying - even though he was cooling down, he was dying, dropping from the sun to the Arctic Sea which froze him down, gave him solid ice to stand against and pretend like he’s alright and the kangaroo wasn’t the first spirit to talk to him in 100 years.

He faked another 10 minutes of pretending to listent to senseless yelling before he couldn’t stay any longer and he fled.

He fled to one of the poles and dug himself a cocoon of ice and snow and sat there and hid, pretending he understand everything that was going on, from his nether regions to his mind to the spirits scorning him and his ignorance like he hadn’t popped out of the ice like a new-born babe.

Did none of the others have that kind of experience? The hopeless feeling of darkness tinged with the naivety of young children running through the streets on a snowy day?

He could count the number of actual interactions he has had with anyone on one hand.

Index Finger: the… meeting with the Fire Spirits.

Middle Finger: Kangaroo. Screw you too.

Ring Finger: The short not-chat with the Yeti around the giant building on the north pole that took him several decades to figure out what it was.

Pinky Finger: That one time a spirit looked at him, snarled and teleported away.

And that was it. And the Man in the Moon didn’t count, he didn’t speak. He didn’t communicate, even for just a disgusted snarl. 

What was he?

 

 

Well, fake it til you make it.


	4. Sanderson

I am afraid for our newest member. He is no longer a young spirit, just created by Tsar Lunar the self-proclaimed Man in the Moon, and yet he still wanders like a shaky-legged colt, dancing around, curious at the world. I am afraid he hides himself away like the field mouse from the murderous owl. I am afraid of what he hides from, why he feels the need to armor himself. I wish to help him, but with his misdirectional words and flighty feet he slips through the air like a snake in water and I fear what he doesn’t say.

* * *

 

It’s strange that he doesn’t dream. His sleep is quiet. It’s dead silent, and if his chest weren’t rising a little per breath, spirits would think he is a corpse. Dream sand doesn’t catch onto his imagination unless he’s awake, nudging it into forms that breath and dance around him. I wonder if he is alright, if perhaps before spirithood something happened to him. I dream of him trying to speak of potential horrors that have happened to him, speaking to his trusted group of friends in order to get better and be able to leave those memories behind. But I can’t imagine his words. I wonder if my theory is correct.

* * *

Talks of the Dynamics, the Alphas, the Betas, the Omegas only occurs in the first decade of a spirit’s life. After that, it is a conversation amongst life partners and of courted pairs. The actions and the smells dictate most of it. I wonder if our Winter Sprite can smell the fertile wombs of omegas and whether or not he is jealous. Or perhaps he stays near humans for that same reason - they have no smell. Does he himself know why he is barren? Will he ever tell us? And is it the truth?

* * *

Due to the nature of the sands, I traverse the world in an octopus of gold, shimmering to grace every child with a dream they can smile about. And consistently, every night I can find our Winter Sprite in a sleepy snowy town, crouched on a roof, hood pulled over his head, bare feet clinging to the shingles. I can never see his face even though he’s in the light of the moon, bathing in its silver glow. But I can see other things instead. His shoulders are slouched, his staff over his shoulder gripped tightly in his hands. His hoodie appears more threadbare in those moments and the string on his pants seems a nudge away from undone. When he notices me, he changes. His persona glows, his face lifts and his body grows into itself. He flips his hair from his face and his lips pull back and he smiles (like his life depends on it).

* * *

His interactions with the children are different from the others. While others act like elders for whom the children are too quick, unfathomable, and free, our Winter Sprite is disjointed at times. When playing with others, he will stumble at times as if unrecognizing of the world, unremembering of the world from childhood. He understands them at a level we do not, but at the same time, he exists parallel the children. Seemingly right beside them, and yet, a little to the left (and straight on ‘til morning).

* * *

Does the heart of our Winter Sprite beat? Does it pump red oxidized blood through his arteries, just like his core of magic moves and travels through his semi-corporeal body? I’ve never checked his beat, because his sleep is never deep enough for that, and he is too skittish for anyone to touch him but the humans. The humans, the ones that think that seeing is believing when it is the other way around. When the rare moment comes that other spirits speak with us, he doesn’t know anyone, the names are strangers to him and often times he attempts to escape early. Out the window, out the door, through the roof, see him soar!

* * *

Magic, as a rule, travels best through solid means; Nicholas and his toys, Toothiana and the teeth of children, Bunnymund and his painted eggs, while I myself claim the dust of stars and space others labelled as “sand”. But Jack works best with means that are created, ice and snow and the Winds themselves. Does this affect him as a spirit? Is this what affects his womb?


	5. Pitch Black

He had been in the ground for eons and ages and eons and ages but he doesn’t know how long. It could have been centuries, it could have been a minute since he was imprisoned in this tomb of black and hooves. And so his mind, with nothing to do but think and force his tired body to clutch the metal globe (powered down so that none of the lights would harm his betrayers, his children, his horses), his mind wanders to the Guardians. And their newest. Jack Frost. His fears don’t make sense. Some of his fears are simple - fears of not being seen, fear of being forgotten, fear of hurting others enough to drive them away. Rather simple, understandable fears, especially with the background he knows.

But others are contradictory. While he wants to be seen, he also doesn’t. He hates and loves the ground and sky. He fears the power of Tsar Lunar and yet he doesn’t care for the way he uses it. And he doesn’t understand (read: fears) the words a fire spirit used to describe him. I can’t quite understand them, they’re mangled by memory - the bedazzled Guardian of blood and gory teeth would see it plainly if she was willing to pick around her coworkers head and use her minimal amount of brainpower and contemplate him. 

It begins with an O and the rest is mangled by time. The word (to Jack) brings up memories of frozen fields and starving children, crying mothers and empty, sandy meadows. The field in the memory is a fear that Jack recognizes, but doesn’t remember. The woman brings up memories of fear, but not of her of someone else that he knows but doesn’t remember. In any usual scenarios Pitch would not have been able to pick apart his life so well but when he met Jack Frost - Guardian of Joy, there was such an immediate spike of fear before dissolving into  _ who are you _ anger and  _ how dare you do this _ .

Wait.

Jack Frost, the Omega. The Barren, the Empty Womb. The words are what human women never want to hear. Barren is something human men (back in the days of villages) think of when empty fields don’t produce when the harvest doesn’t come. To spirits, barren is almost a purely human term (until Jack).

Does Jack know what he is?

Of course, he does. Somebody must have told him.

But did anyone?

Does he know what an Omega is? The Alpha-Beta-Omega Dynamics?

Pitch’s mouth pulls at the corners and his eyes light up and the nightmares and stallions start bucking and starting in the excitement that’s rising and a noise bursts from the overwhelming, unfathomable, unapproachable silence - Pitch is laughing. It’s glee in the ignorance of others, it’s an excitement of having something he had lost eons and ages and eons and ages ago (or maybe a minute). It’s power. He has a small, minuscule sliver of power over another.

And in a world where he pretends to be an Alpha when his body tells him he is a powerless Beta, he has power.

His white-knuckled hands slowly relax. The gray complexion returns to his skin and his feet touch the floor. 

“Onyx.”

One of the horses slides up to him.

“Paper and pen. Be discreet.”

As it slips away, quiet as death and impending doom, Pitch walks through the separating Nightmare horses. He knows he has a study somewhere. It shouldn’t have deteriorated that much in his loss of power - at the very least, he’ll have a desk.


	6. Jack Frost (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey yeah sorry for the very very very very long hiatus, I guess I owe a bit of an author's note at the end, so yeah.

There’s a letter laying in the shadows near his sleeping spot.

There’s a letter (to him! Addressed and stamped, like all the other ones he saw before).

But… there’s also a return address.

And that’s what’s worrying him. It’s from Pitch (he seemed unnatural to him. More so than the general feel of spirits, but how does he know what’s normal and what’s not?).

He sat in the snow and stares at the paper with curling black shadows and contemplated what to do.

He’s saved from the decision by Sandy setting down next to him with a golden question mark over his head. Once he looks where Jack is looking, the question mark disappears. He’s contemplative and suddenly lights up. Jack turns to him.

A golden piece of paper on a strand of golden sand beside a large house with the chimney of ages.

“Sure Sandy.” He gets up, snow blowing itself off his pristine clothing. He bows toward the other’s small stature. “Would you do the honors?”

Sandy smiles widely, conjures himself a top hat and magician’s wand before summoning a rabbit to carefully approach the letter and pull it out of the dark.

Nothing happened except for the shadows pulling away until the gray pallor disappears. Sandy and Jack looked at each other and shrugged. It was rather expected, considering how much power Pitch was left with. But at the same time, rather anticlimactic. Though honestly, Jack wasn’t sure what he was expecting.

“Thanks, Sandy.”

Sandy smiles in response before flashing a few symbols, essentially questioning  _ should I stay? _

Jack smiles back. “No, I think I’m fine.” He pokes the edges of the folded paper while Sandy casually dusts himself off and floats off into the night.

Once Sandy leaves, Jack picks up the letter with his thumb and forefinger. When nothing happens, he carefully places it in his palm and stares at it. 

This is his first letter (addressed to him and not some other name that makes him feel guilty). He’s opened letters before, looked at the squiggles that form words and sounds. Why is it taking him so long to open this one?

Jack carefully hooks his thumb under a loose edge of the flap (don’t frost it don’t frost it), and carefully peels it up from the paper below. The glue is gripping to small fragments of paper from the flap, but that’s not what’s holding Jack’s attention. It’s the paper inside. Obviously, Jack’s opened letters before seen the paper within paper, but actually seeing it inside the envelope that carries his name? It’s strangely… nice.

Pitch is nice (okay no stop that’s weird).

Jack gently tugs the letter out of the envelope before his mind goes off into another strange direction and opens it (like those band-aids adults always talk about). 

He takes a moment. Reads it. Re-reads it. Takes a few moments to go into town and steal a pen (oops, but it was on the floor and nobody was going to use it anyway). Underlines the words he doesn’t know. Re-reads it again and sits in the snow. Thinks of his human sister, some 300 years ago.

What kind of world had he been thrown into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey my loyal readers (if there are any left)! I apologize for my several month (maybe year? I've lost track of time) long hiatus on this story and I have to officially announce that I am sorta (maybe) back on track! SO, um... thanks for sticking around? Comments are nice, but also just reading it is good (which you have by this point, good for you!)
> 
> I'll have the next update in a week or two, I promise (as much as my procrastination and school work can promise)


	7. Phil

Since finding out that the little winter sprite that wouldn’t stop trying to break into the workshop has officially become a Guardian, Phil has made sure to keep at least one window open to let him in. The winter sprite, of course, could use the front door, but Phil was feeling guilty that he had thought so poorly of a spirit that has the heart of a guardian! That is unacceptable to a high-class yeti like him.

And his forward planning has officially paid off. While walking by the open window on one of his regular routes to keep the other yeti in line and working, he spotted the distinctive blue sweater and snow white hair standing just inside the window. The winter spirit looked slightly uncomfortable, as he wasn’t sure he was allowed inside. That wouldn’t do. He was now a permanent guest, as long as he didn’t disrupt workflow too much.

Walking up to Jack, the winter sprite suddenly gained a certain modicum of confidence as he stood straighter and let his hood slip from its half-up position upon his head. A small, strained smile grew on his mouth, genuine and yet scared.

“Hey, Phil, what’s up? Can I come in?”

Silly Jack. He hadn’t learned the yeti language yet, none of the verbal responses would be useful. He still growled out a courteous, “Of course, come in!” as he physically ushered the thin child toward one of the many sitting rooms. He rumbled an order at the elves to bring a plate of cookies and a cup of hot chocolate and its colder counterpart.

“Is North free? I kinda want to ask him about… something…”

“Not really.” Phil shook his head. In truth, North was making something rather delicate in his office and said not to bother him unless it was Pitch or the north pole was melting around him. Last time Phil bothered him during one of those sessions, he became partially bald. That… was not a good experience.

“Darn. Well, then I guess I should be going.”

Phil stopped him with a hand on his shoulder just as the elves brought in the cookies and drinks. Immediately afterward, a few cookies got stolen by the more adventurous of them and Jack had offhandedly frozen a few to the floor, giggling at their facial expressions. Phil motioned towards the cookies, taking one of his favorites and dunking it in hot chocolate. He was long overdue for a short break anyway, and North could hardly reprimand him for being a good host when North himself would not have been able to. “So,” Phil started in yetish, “what’s on your mind?”

As if Jack understood what Phil had asked, he answered the question. “Oh, nothing much. Jamie is still the best kid around, don’t tell the others by the way, but you know, first believer and everything. I see Sandy just about every night, say hi to the tooth fairies when they can take a few seconds to chat before the sun comes up.”

Jack hesitates for a few seconds. “And then Pitch sent me this letter or something…” Phil’s eyes widened in shock, almost getting up before Jack continued, “Sandy plucked it from the shadows, and that was about it. It was pretty strange. I don’t think he meant any trouble… or rather any trouble with him. With the letter is a different subject altogether.”

Jack picks at a chocolate chip cookie, nibbling at it in between sips of his not-so-hot chocolate.

“Phil… what’s an Omega?”


	8. Jack Frost (3)

From Jack’s point of view, which is a rather naive one, to be sure, Phil appeared to seize up and have that startled look in his face similar to the look of one parent a few hundred years back when one of their kids asked: “How are babies made?”

The parent had then stuttered and pushed out a strange non-answer that only provided more questions and distracted the child with Jack’s freshly fallen snow, suggesting them to make it into a snowman. Jack helped out a little bit, but when the pair went back inside their warm and cozy house for lunch, couldn’t stop himself from flying around, listening to other people’s conversations for more information.

He eventually found a tween asking similar questions to a much calmer mother.

Of course, he had then gotten the second-hand version of the infamous “Talk”, except he couldn’t ask any questions and had to fly around with a steaming red face to other parents doing the “Talk”. Over the years he learned more by accidental overhearing and the increasing quality of sexual education.

Jack almost wanted to reassure Phil that he knew what sex was (even though when he had first learned about it he wanted to remove the information from his brain). But the word “Omega” had nothing to do with it, did it? It was just another Greek letter, the last one, the one after Psi. But that didn’t make much sense, as Pitch’s letter pretty clearly used it as a specified term, rather than as a Greek letter, especially in the sentence, “You should learn to contain that Omega scent of yours. Once the others learn of your capacity to bear, you will be a prize all spirits would wish to win.”And on that note, what did he mean by bear?

In that moment a not ankle-height elf knocked on the still closed door, followed by “Phil! Is North in? I thought we were going to have tea today?”

Phil physically picks himself up and plods to the door, eyes still wide and open. He motions for Tooth to sit down, before leaving the room.

“Oh! Hi Jack, how are you?”

“I’m okay? I think? I was going to ask North about something, but apparently, he’s busy right now so…” Jack goes to his staff and is about to walk out to the window when Bunny strolls in through the door, holding several bags of… something.

“Hey Tooth. Frostbite. Guess this is the waiting room for today? Just need a mo’, need to stock North with some good hot chocolate for helping fix up a few more egg bombs.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess, I mean, I was just about to go…” Jack slowly slides toward the door until North crashes through, eyes wide, followed by Phil, who is garbling even more incomprehensible-y (to Jack’s ears). North then turns, carefully herds a few remaining elves out of the room and carefully closes the door, exposing his own strange type of nervousness.

North then turned to Jack, and with a seriousness usually only reserved for fighting Pitch at full power, rumbled in a voice that traveled across the room, “Jack, do you not know of what it means to be a spirit?”

“Huh? You mean like people can’t see you unless they believe you and stuff, no, I got that.”

North shakes his head while Phil takes the moment to sit Jack in a comfy chair. Bunny and Tooth are staring questioningly at North. A short flash of gold slipping in through the door diverts their attention for a moment until Phil offers him his seat. Sandy kindly refuses, forming his own chair and, decides to join the others in staring at North (it is usually a rather fun pastime). 

“Jack. Jack Frost. Did someone ever explain to you the Alpha, Beta Omega Dynamics?”

Jack stares back confusedly. “What’s that?”

Sandy almost falls from his golden chair in surprise, flashing an exclamation mark above his head before transitioning to a snowflake as his thoughts move too quickly for his sand to express.

Tooth and her little fairies are almost entirely still, hanging in midair with the power they contain as spirits while Bunnymund thinks back on all of his interactions with the wayward Omega, reevaluating conversations and meetings and finally, finally, the Blizzard of ‘68.

“Oh strewth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one kinda feels like the one before and it kinda is but also I don't know what my mind is thinking so take this and I'll actually get something plot related within the week.
> 
> Probably.
> 
> Maybe.
> 
> Hopefully.


	9. Bunnymund (2)

I have the strong urge to run and hide. All of my interactions with the frost spirit come rushing back and rock me on my hocks.

Jack shifts awkwardly in light of our silence and grips his staff harder. Does he not know he’s an omega?

“Jack. How did you become a spirit?” That’s North’s voice. The rest of us are still stunned. The fairies and slowly dropping to the floor, sitting at Tooth’s feet. 

“How do people normally become one?”

“How did  **you** become a spirit?”

Jack hesitates, the frost on his shoulders hardens into hoarfrost, unnoticeable unless you were looking for it. He looks to me, to Tooth, to Phil, to Sandy, whose sand is vibrating in place, trying to form the thoughts whirring in the fallen star’s head. The little fairy Jack had found and named takes the first fluttering steps, reaching out to Jack. He opens his palm face up for her to land on, and she comforts him in the only way a tiny fairy built to trade children’s teeth could. She pulls on his fingers and gives her a miniature hug. The corner of Jack’s mouth lifts into a semblance of a smile.

“I… died. In a lake. While saving my sister.” 

“What?” I can hardly recognize my own voice.

Jack looks startled. “Did that not happen to you guys?”

“Sweet tooth, no… we were all asked by Manny.”

He looks defeated. “Oh.”

He looks uncomfortable talking about his death. I ask the first thing I can think of.

“Did anybody help you get… situated?”

“... No.”

Tooth lifts herself up by sheer force of will. “Well, better late than never, yeah? We can explain it all to you now!”

“Sandy smiles and does a thumbs up, making himself a pair of glasses and a tie, along with a wall of real looking charts. North asks Phil to bring up cookies, warm drinks and a few blankets. I get back up on my feet. 

Jack is still awkwardly sitting in his slowly disappearing hoarfrost armor. Tooth is a bit distracted by her fairies and also a little out of herself so I decide to take the lead.

“We’ll start with Alphas and Betas, then talk about Omegas, okay?”

“Sure, but I need to be out of here in a few hours to steer a few clouds, okay?”

Not optimal, but workable. “Okay. So, basics now, we let you sit on it, come back again with more detailed questions afterward.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Alphas are generally the more aggressive of the dynamics, the fighters, the protectors. North and I are one of these, often considered natural born leaders and the top of the spirit food chain. Betas are generally in the middle, generally overlooked, sorry Tooth, and often not considered as important as their Alpha counterparts in stereotypical fashion. Nowadays, as the people chain in regard to norms, so do we in a certain, not really parallel way, but it’s getting better. Tooth and Phil are both Betas.”

Jack nods in understanding, glancing at Tooth for a short second before returning his attention to me.

“Lastly, there are Omegas. Stereotypically they are the most focused on family and relationships of all sorts, perceived as docile in nature and generally weak, however, originally they were also considered the most cunning, capable of subverting their own natures to fit their own needs.” I pause here, bracing myself for Jack’s reaction to the next bits of information. “In addition, all omegas are capable of getting pregnant during times called heats.”

Jack’s face lights up in vibrant hues as the frost dusting his skin spreads to his skin. He leaps up over the back of the chair, stumbles against its high back and saves himself from landing on the floor by his staff, pulling up his hood in the process.

“WHAT.”

Sandy, who had been in the background making muscles out of sand for his usually small and unassuming body, draws up a rather in-depth explanation of how it could be possible. Most of the how is explained by magic. Surprisingly, the star can explain that pretty well.

Jack flutters his hand at him, looking away.

“WHAT.”

“Sweet tooth, don’t worry about it. That can only happen during heats for you, and, honestly, the spirit world has been given no evidence that you have heats, so most likely…”

“I CAN GET PREGNANT?!”

“Calm down, Jack, sit down, have some cocoa…”

“WHAT THE HECK?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to post but school leeched me of all of my creative energy and it only just came flooding in. Hope you enjoyed the slightly longer chapter!


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